A Moment
by ForeverFrUkingWarriors
Summary: Henry falls apart after tragedy hits him hard. One-shot. Angsty. Rated T for language and violence. Suggested! Mortinez.


**A.N.-**

** Ok, first off; this is a really sad fic. Like, get the tissues if you're an easy crier. I almost cried writing it.**

** Second, even thought it says Mortinez in the description, that's suggested Mortinez. It's not only centered around the ship. Gosh.**

** Third, I hope you enjoy. No bad comments, please; I promised my friend I would write this.**

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><p>It was a moment. One horrible moment that seemed to last forever.<p>

A loud scream. Abraham fell to the floor with a horrifying bang. Two more shots were fired to make sure the job got done. Then the killer was gone, just like that.

Henry returned late that night. He entered the antique store, hung his coat on the coatrack, locked the door, and called for Abe. The only difference from this night and the last was that there was no answer.

Immediately Henry was filled with a sense of fear. He ran upstairs, calling Abe's name frantically: "Abe! _Abe_! Abraham! _Abraham Morgan_!"

He felt his pulse rise as he threw open the door to the apartment. He searched the whole of his home; he found himself in Abraham's bedroom last.

Henry collapsed to his knees in an instant. He felt sobs shaking his chest as he crawled over to Abe's unmoving body. It was a horrible sight, to see one's son lying on the ground with a hole in his chest.

Henry did not sleep that night. He just sat next to Abraham, rubbing his hand, kissing his forehead, and praying that it was all just a horrible nightmare.

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><p>Jo paced around the office as she frantically called Abraham's cellphone–again. There would be seven missed calls, plus one more if Abe didn't freaking pick up.<p>

The ringing stopped as a familiar voice answered the phone. It wasn't Abe's, but it would work. "H-hello?"

Jo stopped, worry immediately clouding her eyes. "Henry?" The voice sounded tired and as thought it had been crying.

"Don't expect me to come in today. Or tomorrow." The line went silent for a few moments as what sounded like a sob shook Henry. "Or ever." A loud, hacking cough sounded.

Jo shook her head. "Oh, Henry, are you sick? What's wrong?" She knew something had happened. Something was obviously wrong. Henry never cried. He never missed a day of work, not for anything.

Silence. Then a sigh. Then, "Just come, please." The line went dead; a dial tone rang on. Jo sat there, phone to her ear.

Lucas walked up to her, blinking in confusion as she got up and walked out the door.

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><p>The door to the antique store burst open as Jo sprinted up to the apartment and threw the door open.<p>

Horrible sobs of pain led her to a bedroom in the corner of the small home. She carefully turned the doorknob, gun in hand. The door flew open and she looked around cautiously.

She dropped her gun to the floor, shock racing through her veins as she put a hand to her mouth, blocking her surprise. "Henry, I–"

"Just be quiet!" he screamed. Jo shut her mouth as Henry looked at Abe with eyes of insanity.

Jo didn't know what to do. She walked toward Henry, who now had tears streaming down his face, and kneeled down on the floor beside him.

"Henry, I'm so sorry," she whispered. There was utter silence in the room, besides Henry's occasional sob, and she knew not what to do. "I knew he was your-your father, your only family..." She trailed off.

"It-it's not just that," he muttered, putting his hand over Abe's cold one. "He was my friend. He was my confidant, and-and... h-he was the only one... wh-who knew."

Jo blinked. Tears were clouding her vision. It couldn't happen. "Knew what?" she asked, rubbing his arm.

"None of your concern," Henry whispered, and suddenly planted a kiss on Jo's cheek. She sat, shocked, as he started up crying again.

Jo felt her eyebrows furrow in pain. Who would do such a thing? She knew it was rough in New York–it was her job– but she never thought anything would happen to anyone she knew, especially Abe...

"We'll get whoever did this–hard," she promised, and walked out of the apartment without another word.

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><p>Everyone had gathered. The crowd was silent. Some cried, some consoled others, and some just looked on with grim faces.<p>

Henry stood at the podium, his face dark and emotionless. He had so much to say, but so little time–forever was not enough.

He looked down at the long, light brown casket, decorated with a simple flower. Loving signatures and wishes were scribbled on the casket by many.

"Abe... oh, where do I begin."

The crowd was dead quiet. Henry caught Jo's eye and cracked a tiny grin–the first time he'd smiled in a long time.

"Everyone hated Abraham. He was a troublemaker, I'll be honest. Too much trouble for his own good. And, let's be honest, he was going nowhere quickly." Polite, quiet chuckles followed.

"But he had a good heart." He stopped, sniffling, as a teardrop fell on the paper he was reading from. "Oh, to hell with this," he muttered, grabbing the paper and crumpling it up. He threw it aside.

"I loved Abraham–still do. He was my only family. He cared so much for everyone, even those who cared not at all. He was an idiot. A good-natured idiot. He was loving, and nice, and deserved more than this–this crappy send-off."

Jo gave him two thumbs-up, and he continued with his speech, which was now more of a rant.

"Abraham was much more than my father," he said unsurely. "He was my best friend. He knew all my darkest secrets, and he was the one I could trust the most."

"And that," he concluded, "is why he deserves much more than a flower and a couple of words." Henry took off his scarf, stepped down from the podium, and placed it gently on Abe's casket.

"You will be missed, Abraham. Have a good afterlife." He ran back down to the crowd, his heart aching.

The casket was lowered into the grave. Sniffles and quiet sobs were heard. Jo squeezed Henry's hand.

Henry felt a buzzing in his right pocket. He still wasn't used to it; he had decided to get a cellphone. That was what Abraham wanted.

Henry hesitantly let go of Jo's hand and ran to a corner where no one could hear him talking.

He picked up the phone. "Hello?" he answered quietly.

Henry's eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed as he heard an all too familiar voice:

"You're next, Henry."


End file.
